We're back from our vacation.
We had a thunderstorm and the power went out right as we were preparing to leave. Couldn't print our tickets... missed our flight out... the final touch was the streaker (more of a naked stroller, actually) sauntering through the airport baggage claim.
Everyone has vacation horror stories, though. The real test is how you react. My family passed the quiz, I guess. My 13-year-old whipped out her cell phone and started texting her friends "naked dude here!" (At least she didn't take photos.) For the rest of the trip whenever the kids got bored my husband would shout "Look, another naked guy!" We got a LOT of strange looks last week, but the spirit never went out of our vacation.
In Philadelphia, I saw a Hispanic family proudly posing in front of the Liberty Bell holding a newspaper that read, "Senate confirms Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court". We found out our tour of Independence Hall was cancelled because the First Family was taking the tour instead. I felt like we were truly standing in the footsteps of history. Then my 9-year-old turned to me and asked, "Where, exactly, was 'National Treasure' filmed?" Great moments in history, through my son's eyes...
We went on a ghost tour and I told my family afterwards about the ghost tour director who died in a horrific tour trolley accident but returns to lead the tours when the living directors don't arrive in time... if our director had been more creepy looking and less college prep, I'm sure our kids would never have gotten to sleep that night!
Fun fact: Cape Code is far fuller of Italians than New York these days. Little Italy is about one block in NYC, while even the McDonalds near the Cape sold cannoli. I was so excited to see an old guy in Boston who looked like Fred's dad, only to later realize that ALL the old guys in Boston looked like Fred's dad. Gotta love that Italian schnozzola.
Anyway, our trip through Philadelphia, NYC, and Boston was a blast. I'm sure the lack of stress and time spent studying routes on a map made our vacation that much more pleasurable. We wanted to bless our GPS, but we were afraid the holy water would harm it. I recommend our trip, with a special shout out to the Lucerne Hotel in NYC. The people there defined class!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Car Ride Topics
It's spring. Last Thursday our kids had two ball games scheduled along with a parent meeting for a musical and a jazz band concert. Oh, one also stayed at the school until 6 and I had a church meeting that started at 7. It's the season of FRUSTRATION!!!
There's an upside to all the driving, though. Here's a list of high points from the car rides as I chauffer my kids around town these days:
WHAT TO PLAY ON THE RADIO: I wish I could have recorded Elizabeth talking about her tweener music. ("Lady Gaga is '08 and your music is too late, Mom. NOBODY knows who Tina Turner and that old Neil Young guy are except you!") Later she started in on U2. ("You WHO??") I think I'm supposed to be offended that she's criticizing my tastes, but I still break into giggles everytime I think about it.
MOTHER'S DAY GIFTS: My husband noticed that Victoria's Secret was having a Mother's Day Sale, and asked me who would buy lingerie for Mother's Day. I explained that some men want to show their wives that they still find them attractive as a woman, and not "just" a mother. I got a blank look in return. And my daughters LAUGH!
ON MEN WHO SHOP: My husband took my daughters out for Mother's Day shopping the night before the big day, and they loved it. They're little blood-suckers who want to watch all the misery as my husband frantically tries to select a last-minute gift. ("You bought me a CHEESE SLICER? Don't you remember? I put one in YOUR Christmas stocking with the wine opener four months ago.") Then there are the bowling balls and nylons of Christmas past... I warn my daughters that they'll get their just desserts when they have husbands of their own someday. (That'll NEVER happen! They both swear.)
ON HEALTH: My son noticed that I was wearing a tank top the other day. My arms quickly lost their tone once I refused to carry him everywhere. In fact, he poked my upper arm and pronounced, "Like pudding." I reminded my older daughter that good drivers like me always keep both hands on the wheel, no matter how great the temptation to smack your passengers...
Next Thursday... Two ball games, one awards banquet and one recital. Can't wait for the carpool!
There's an upside to all the driving, though. Here's a list of high points from the car rides as I chauffer my kids around town these days:
WHAT TO PLAY ON THE RADIO: I wish I could have recorded Elizabeth talking about her tweener music. ("Lady Gaga is '08 and your music is too late, Mom. NOBODY knows who Tina Turner and that old Neil Young guy are except you!") Later she started in on U2. ("You WHO??") I think I'm supposed to be offended that she's criticizing my tastes, but I still break into giggles everytime I think about it.
MOTHER'S DAY GIFTS: My husband noticed that Victoria's Secret was having a Mother's Day Sale, and asked me who would buy lingerie for Mother's Day. I explained that some men want to show their wives that they still find them attractive as a woman, and not "just" a mother. I got a blank look in return. And my daughters LAUGH!
ON MEN WHO SHOP: My husband took my daughters out for Mother's Day shopping the night before the big day, and they loved it. They're little blood-suckers who want to watch all the misery as my husband frantically tries to select a last-minute gift. ("You bought me a CHEESE SLICER? Don't you remember? I put one in YOUR Christmas stocking with the wine opener four months ago.") Then there are the bowling balls and nylons of Christmas past... I warn my daughters that they'll get their just desserts when they have husbands of their own someday. (That'll NEVER happen! They both swear.)
ON HEALTH: My son noticed that I was wearing a tank top the other day. My arms quickly lost their tone once I refused to carry him everywhere. In fact, he poked my upper arm and pronounced, "Like pudding." I reminded my older daughter that good drivers like me always keep both hands on the wheel, no matter how great the temptation to smack your passengers...
Next Thursday... Two ball games, one awards banquet and one recital. Can't wait for the carpool!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Picking Your Battles
I teach Junior Great Books at our elementary school and my last class had four boys who got pretty rowdy at times. I'd say "Boooooys" in a threatening tone and glare at them until they settled down.
It took me awhile to get used to the whole "it's okay to show your anger to your class" philosophy. Now I realize that kids need to see their role models losing their temper in a controlled manner. I don't hold a child's misbehavior against them, and they don't hold it against me if I rebuke them by name. They quiet down and we move on. It's standard operating procedure in a classroom.
A couple weeks ago my middle-school daughter came home with a video that she'd taped with her cell phone on the bus ride home that day. It had snowed, and the roads weren't too great. The kids in the back of the bus were shouting and screaming, making the bus driver even more edgy. She finally lost it and started screaming at the kids.
I talked with my daughter about whether the bus driver's actions were appropriate (no) and if there were extenuating circumstances (yes). I asked my daughter if she felt threatened by the diatribe (no) and in the end, I didn't complain to the school.
I'm sure some would say I made the wrong decision. My daughter didn't think it was necessary, though, and I let her make the call. She did think that someone might file a complaint, though, which is why she turned on her cell phone and taped everything. Smart kid.
It took me awhile to get used to the whole "it's okay to show your anger to your class" philosophy. Now I realize that kids need to see their role models losing their temper in a controlled manner. I don't hold a child's misbehavior against them, and they don't hold it against me if I rebuke them by name. They quiet down and we move on. It's standard operating procedure in a classroom.
A couple weeks ago my middle-school daughter came home with a video that she'd taped with her cell phone on the bus ride home that day. It had snowed, and the roads weren't too great. The kids in the back of the bus were shouting and screaming, making the bus driver even more edgy. She finally lost it and started screaming at the kids.
I talked with my daughter about whether the bus driver's actions were appropriate (no) and if there were extenuating circumstances (yes). I asked my daughter if she felt threatened by the diatribe (no) and in the end, I didn't complain to the school.
I'm sure some would say I made the wrong decision. My daughter didn't think it was necessary, though, and I let her make the call. She did think that someone might file a complaint, though, which is why she turned on her cell phone and taped everything. Smart kid.
Friday, March 13, 2009
It's March; It's Minnesota
Last weekend it was in the mid-forties, temp-wise. On Monday it started raining and the temps started dropping. It started snowing on Tuesday and the wind kicked up that night.
On Tuesday night the wind howled. That's not unusual in March. It's Minnesota. By Wednesday morning the temps were about 15 degrees below zero. The winds died down on Thursday and by Monday we're supposed to hit 60 degrees.
That's a 75-degree change in temperature. In some months, and in some places, this would be fodder for months of speculation. Not so here, though. It's March and it's Minnesota. These things happen.
That's just one reason March is my favorite month of the year. On Wednesday morning I had to drive kid #2 to band practice. A full moon hung low on the horizon, huge and bright. All the moisture in the air lent a glowing aura to the orb and with the winds howling, it felt surreal... especially as I turned off the main road onto my block. You could still see that eerie moon peeking between the homes of the suburban landscape, and it was one freaky juxtaposition!
I doubt many other people noticed or commented on it, though. It's March, and it's Minnesota. These things just happen here, don'cha know?
On Tuesday night the wind howled. That's not unusual in March. It's Minnesota. By Wednesday morning the temps were about 15 degrees below zero. The winds died down on Thursday and by Monday we're supposed to hit 60 degrees.
That's a 75-degree change in temperature. In some months, and in some places, this would be fodder for months of speculation. Not so here, though. It's March and it's Minnesota. These things happen.
That's just one reason March is my favorite month of the year. On Wednesday morning I had to drive kid #2 to band practice. A full moon hung low on the horizon, huge and bright. All the moisture in the air lent a glowing aura to the orb and with the winds howling, it felt surreal... especially as I turned off the main road onto my block. You could still see that eerie moon peeking between the homes of the suburban landscape, and it was one freaky juxtaposition!
I doubt many other people noticed or commented on it, though. It's March, and it's Minnesota. These things just happen here, don'cha know?
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Teaching New Tricks to Madd Dogs
Once a long time ago I was driving down a local street and I noticed an old man on the sidewalk angrily shaking his fist at me.
I was confused, since there wasn't much traffic and the guy didn't seem interested in trying to cross. I thought he was mouthing the words "Slow down!" but I wasn't speeding, which only confused me more.
For some reason, that angry old man shaking his fist has stayed in my head for years. It's hard to accept that a stranger is angry at you for a reason you can't understand or control. You can tell yourself that the problem is his, not yours, but it's still hard to accept that you unknowingly did something to upset someone so much.
I don't resent the man's anger. In fact, I've romanticized it over time and created many "maybe" stories about that incident. Maybe the man didn't like the speed limit in the neighborhood and this was his public protest. Maybe all the cars were going by much too quickly for his aging reflexes. Maybe God put that man there to remind me to tap on those metaphysical brakes once in awhile. Slow down. A more leisurely speed is safer, and more enjoyable.
Maybe someday I'll be an old woman standing along a street on which all the cars are going too fast. Will I be angry that I can no longer keep up? Will I feel compelled to warn them that life is wasted in the fast lane? Will I want to remind them to slow down?
I've realized that I don't want to become that person. Anger might be a memorable emotion but not a productive one in the end. If I want slower traffic, I'll post a fake road sign at midnight and laugh.
So who will you be when you grow up, and how fast will you go to get there?
I was confused, since there wasn't much traffic and the guy didn't seem interested in trying to cross. I thought he was mouthing the words "Slow down!" but I wasn't speeding, which only confused me more.
For some reason, that angry old man shaking his fist has stayed in my head for years. It's hard to accept that a stranger is angry at you for a reason you can't understand or control. You can tell yourself that the problem is his, not yours, but it's still hard to accept that you unknowingly did something to upset someone so much.
I don't resent the man's anger. In fact, I've romanticized it over time and created many "maybe" stories about that incident. Maybe the man didn't like the speed limit in the neighborhood and this was his public protest. Maybe all the cars were going by much too quickly for his aging reflexes. Maybe God put that man there to remind me to tap on those metaphysical brakes once in awhile. Slow down. A more leisurely speed is safer, and more enjoyable.
Maybe someday I'll be an old woman standing along a street on which all the cars are going too fast. Will I be angry that I can no longer keep up? Will I feel compelled to warn them that life is wasted in the fast lane? Will I want to remind them to slow down?
I've realized that I don't want to become that person. Anger might be a memorable emotion but not a productive one in the end. If I want slower traffic, I'll post a fake road sign at midnight and laugh.
So who will you be when you grow up, and how fast will you go to get there?
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
My holiday letter
I'm lousy about keeping in touch with friends and family. I love hearing news about the daily lives of people I care about, so I try to encourage that by sending out an annual holiday letter. It usually goes out the day before or the day after Christmas but it's the THOUGHT that counts, darn it!
So here's my holiday letter for you. Here's hoping your 2008 had more highs than lows and you continue to enjoy great highs in 2009.
- Karen
“Holy holidays, Batman – it’s Christmas time again! How can that be?”
“Well, Robin, either the Joker figured out a way to send us into the future, or we were too busy fighting crime to notice the time flying by.”
Sigh… we don’t have any crimefighting excuses or villains to blame for last-minute holiday greetings. Life just gets busy, even for us ordinary folks. Our kids would LOVE it if they caught their ‘rents kicking some bad guy tail once in awhile, though. They’d even take a tiny bat cave. (Sorry kids, but we have to do a mind wipe each time you find it…)
Wow, this letter is off to a juvenile start. Blame it on having an 8-year-old boy in the house who’s fixated on superheroes and other typical boy things. Freddy is in third grade and his big change this year was getting “blueberry Pez” glasses. The new specs must help in the ballpark, because his dad coached Freddy’s baseball team to a first place finish this summer.
Freddy also plays sweet music with the violin. The cat likes to sing along whenever he plays, so we’ve been treated to some interesting concerts. Freddy loves playing games and has a devious young mind. So if he ever challenges you to a game of Stratego or Battleship… watch out!
Elizabeth, age 12, is in 7th grade now. Her sport is softball and her team got fourth place this year. (She got the Most Improved Player award.) Lizzy’s instrument is the saxophone, and she’s working on the Pachebel Canon with her brother. Dad backs them up on the guitar, and it’s an unusual-sounding trio. Sometimes the cat joins in and it’s a quartet.
Elizabeth is a typical middle-school kid. Boys are stupid and parents are clueless about life in the 21st century. “Every child NEEDS a cell phone, mom!” (Nope, not buying it.)
Alta is a high school Sophomore this year. She’s taking Japanese and wants to go there someday. I jokingly asked her where the Sea of Japan was located, and discovered she knows a LOT about that nation’s geography. Coming from a kid who can’t find her way to the grocery store unless I drive her… it’s a little freaky. If she’s this single-minded in other pursuits, watch out for this girl.
Alta has started working a few hours a week for her dad’s business, and she teaches Sunday School with her mom. Despite her busy schedule she’s always willing to spend time at home with family…as long as our firewall doesn’t block her favorite websites.
We lost two important people in our lives this year. Fred’s dad passed away shortly before Thanksgiving. It was a sad occasion, but in true Italian style, the Alonzi clan celebrated a vibrant life and the release of a joyful spirit. My Uncle Glen passed away a few weeks earlier. Both men shared with us a love of games, music & storytelling, and a thirst for knowledge. This first Christmas without them will be hard. However, we’ll honor their memory this holiday season by celebrating the traditions we shared with them… and lives filled with warmth, laughter, stories, and love.
Peace and best wishes for the new year!
So here's my holiday letter for you. Here's hoping your 2008 had more highs than lows and you continue to enjoy great highs in 2009.
- Karen
“Holy holidays, Batman – it’s Christmas time again! How can that be?”
“Well, Robin, either the Joker figured out a way to send us into the future, or we were too busy fighting crime to notice the time flying by.”
Sigh… we don’t have any crimefighting excuses or villains to blame for last-minute holiday greetings. Life just gets busy, even for us ordinary folks. Our kids would LOVE it if they caught their ‘rents kicking some bad guy tail once in awhile, though. They’d even take a tiny bat cave. (Sorry kids, but we have to do a mind wipe each time you find it…)
Wow, this letter is off to a juvenile start. Blame it on having an 8-year-old boy in the house who’s fixated on superheroes and other typical boy things. Freddy is in third grade and his big change this year was getting “blueberry Pez” glasses. The new specs must help in the ballpark, because his dad coached Freddy’s baseball team to a first place finish this summer.
Freddy also plays sweet music with the violin. The cat likes to sing along whenever he plays, so we’ve been treated to some interesting concerts. Freddy loves playing games and has a devious young mind. So if he ever challenges you to a game of Stratego or Battleship… watch out!
Elizabeth, age 12, is in 7th grade now. Her sport is softball and her team got fourth place this year. (She got the Most Improved Player award.) Lizzy’s instrument is the saxophone, and she’s working on the Pachebel Canon with her brother. Dad backs them up on the guitar, and it’s an unusual-sounding trio. Sometimes the cat joins in and it’s a quartet.
Elizabeth is a typical middle-school kid. Boys are stupid and parents are clueless about life in the 21st century. “Every child NEEDS a cell phone, mom!” (Nope, not buying it.)
Alta is a high school Sophomore this year. She’s taking Japanese and wants to go there someday. I jokingly asked her where the Sea of Japan was located, and discovered she knows a LOT about that nation’s geography. Coming from a kid who can’t find her way to the grocery store unless I drive her… it’s a little freaky. If she’s this single-minded in other pursuits, watch out for this girl.
Alta has started working a few hours a week for her dad’s business, and she teaches Sunday School with her mom. Despite her busy schedule she’s always willing to spend time at home with family…as long as our firewall doesn’t block her favorite websites.
We lost two important people in our lives this year. Fred’s dad passed away shortly before Thanksgiving. It was a sad occasion, but in true Italian style, the Alonzi clan celebrated a vibrant life and the release of a joyful spirit. My Uncle Glen passed away a few weeks earlier. Both men shared with us a love of games, music & storytelling, and a thirst for knowledge. This first Christmas without them will be hard. However, we’ll honor their memory this holiday season by celebrating the traditions we shared with them… and lives filled with warmth, laughter, stories, and love.
Peace and best wishes for the new year!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Another eulogy
My father-in-law passed away a couple days before Thanksgiving. It must be a seasonal thing, since my mom passed away 17 years ago a few days AFTER Thanksgiving.
Grampy was 89, the same age as my Uncle Glen who died last month. The coincidences may not impress you, but those of us in mourning seem to latch onto odd facts like this. I suppose it's an instinctive search for hidden meanings and purposes in death. (I'm not finding any, so don't read on if you're looking for those types of answers.)
This is NOT a time of sorrow for our family. Grampy had become a shell of the outgoing, vibrant man he once was and we've been mourning that loss for three years. Finally the body has let loose free his joyful spirit, and the entire family is celebrating.
The memorial service was lovely. Fred's dad was a twin and all of Fred's cousins flew in for the funeral. One cousin explained to the priest that since their fathers were genetically identical, they're technically half-siblings, not mere cousins. They had a private Italian meal at a local restaurant last night and took turns telling stories about their twin fathers and all the pranks, shenanigans, and heroic deeds they'd performed over the years.
The twins never locked the company safe. Instead there was a faded note on the cover that read, "We're out of cash so I'll stop at the bank on the way in tomorrow." That note was their anti-theft strategy for 20 years.
The stories about people confusing the twins were hilarious. Uncle Sam's future daughter-in-law once saw her boyfriend's supposed father in downtown Chicago, with a woman who was NOT her boyfriend's mother.
One of Uncle Sam's neighbors refused to talk to him for years. Evidently this neighbor had been elected to represent their block at a community meeting. Not only did Uncle Sam have the gall to also show up at said meeting, but he sat with the opposition and ignored him completely. Sam had no idea why the neighbor was so mad at him until years later. The neighbor saw the twins together, realized immediately what had happened, and apologized profusely.
The best story was when Sam was hospitalized and Fred came to visit. As he left, a nurse at the station tried to convince him to stay. He joked, "I can't... the food here is TERRIBLE." When he got off the elevator in the lobby, two big orderlies were waiting for him. He had to accompany them back to his brother's room before they believed his story and let him leave the hospital.
There were also stories about the famous "twin radar". The twins both got their first cash card at about the same time, and they both got to pick their own 4-digit PIN number. When comparing cards later, they realized they'd both picked the same number, 5683, because it spelled LOVE on the phone pad.
What a fun night of stories! It really was a great tribute to two men. May all the deaths in your life carry a similar amount of laughter and celebration to lessen the grief.
Grampy was 89, the same age as my Uncle Glen who died last month. The coincidences may not impress you, but those of us in mourning seem to latch onto odd facts like this. I suppose it's an instinctive search for hidden meanings and purposes in death. (I'm not finding any, so don't read on if you're looking for those types of answers.)
This is NOT a time of sorrow for our family. Grampy had become a shell of the outgoing, vibrant man he once was and we've been mourning that loss for three years. Finally the body has let loose free his joyful spirit, and the entire family is celebrating.
The memorial service was lovely. Fred's dad was a twin and all of Fred's cousins flew in for the funeral. One cousin explained to the priest that since their fathers were genetically identical, they're technically half-siblings, not mere cousins. They had a private Italian meal at a local restaurant last night and took turns telling stories about their twin fathers and all the pranks, shenanigans, and heroic deeds they'd performed over the years.
The twins never locked the company safe. Instead there was a faded note on the cover that read, "We're out of cash so I'll stop at the bank on the way in tomorrow." That note was their anti-theft strategy for 20 years.
The stories about people confusing the twins were hilarious. Uncle Sam's future daughter-in-law once saw her boyfriend's supposed father in downtown Chicago, with a woman who was NOT her boyfriend's mother.
One of Uncle Sam's neighbors refused to talk to him for years. Evidently this neighbor had been elected to represent their block at a community meeting. Not only did Uncle Sam have the gall to also show up at said meeting, but he sat with the opposition and ignored him completely. Sam had no idea why the neighbor was so mad at him until years later. The neighbor saw the twins together, realized immediately what had happened, and apologized profusely.
The best story was when Sam was hospitalized and Fred came to visit. As he left, a nurse at the station tried to convince him to stay. He joked, "I can't... the food here is TERRIBLE." When he got off the elevator in the lobby, two big orderlies were waiting for him. He had to accompany them back to his brother's room before they believed his story and let him leave the hospital.
There were also stories about the famous "twin radar". The twins both got their first cash card at about the same time, and they both got to pick their own 4-digit PIN number. When comparing cards later, they realized they'd both picked the same number, 5683, because it spelled LOVE on the phone pad.
What a fun night of stories! It really was a great tribute to two men. May all the deaths in your life carry a similar amount of laughter and celebration to lessen the grief.
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